Tis the Season
by Justina C. Nathans
Summary: In which Gil has no idea how he got so drunk, Christmas spirit breaks out, and someone gives Oz mistletoe. Subtle Oz/Gil


**Title**: 'Tis The Season (gift fic for rosael)

**Rating**: PG

**Pairing/Characters: **None really, but very subtle Oz/Gil

**Genre**: Gen/Humor

**Spoilers?**: None

**Warnings**: Gilbert torture! (Best kind ever!)

A/N: I wanted to have this posted so long ago, however, this last month was the most hectic month ever. Hectic not as in oh, I have stuff to do, but hectic as in final exams, graduation, get married, honeymoon, Christmas, New Year hectic. However, I hope you enjoy, rosael! I had fun writing this for you! :)

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Gilbert Nightray has no idea how he's gotten so drunk.

Christmas Eve, a dozen bottles of wine, and a suggestion from Break to 'celebrate the season!' starts the party and vaguely Gilbert thinks he can remember the moment when everything came to a screeching halt in his head.

"We should celebrate Christmas!" Break says hours previously, his torso and head sticking out from inside the cabinet doors where he's crouched. "Revelry!"

"Christmas?" Alice says from her seat at the small tea table and Gilbert thinks that it's the first time he remembers her not eating _something_. "Why should we celebrate? It's not a tasty holiday."

"Oho, but it is a tasty holiday, Alice!" Break explains and he reaches behind into the darkness of the cabinet to show the plate of pastries and cake he had been hiding the entire time. It stumps Gilbert as to where it came from; there were no pastry shops in the manor, nor was he even sure that the cooks could make something that detailed. He holds the plate towards Alice and Gilbert steps back just in time to avoid being knocked over as she flies by him for the plate.

"Stupid rabbit, stop running!"

She turns to him with the plate half in her mouth in an impression of Break's eating habits and scowls at him. "Quiet, seaweed head!" And then she turns to look at Oz with a determined look and points her finger at him. "Let's celebrate Christmas!"

"Wait, wait, _what?_" is about as far as he manages to get before Break hands him a bottle of wine and passes around glasses and tells him to stop being a spoilsport and enjoy himself.

It's where they are now, celebrating Christmas in the Rainsworth manor. Sharon and Alice are huddled together on a small couch with a large hardback novel between them (and Gilbert notes that they both have the same pink flush to their cheeks that's probably from the wine bottle they're holding between them). Break is halfway through a piece of cake that looks suspiciously like a large man in a red and white suit and he smiles at Gilbert with white frosting and red sprinkles around his mouth like a sugary mask. (Gilbert shudders. He's scary enough without the sugar.)

And Oz…?

Oz is curled up in a chair holding something in his hands that Gilbert can't see. His master is transfixed by it, staring down at it with a smile and he wants to know what it is, what has his master so captivated and looking like--

"Gil." Oz's face is blank, but there's a hint of the same pink on his cheeks that tints his own. "You're staring at me."

"I, uh--" Gilbert blinks and realizes with a blush that yes, he _is_ staring at Oz and it shocks him back to the present: wine, drunkenness, and his master's face, just-- "No, I--"

"You _are_." He stands from the couch with no wobble in his step (and Gilbert thanks his lucky stars for this, especially since he's sitting across the room from him and that would be bad, _very_ bad if he wobbled and _fell_, oh, yes), but his hands are clasped to his chest, arms folded to hide whatever he's holding. "But I can change that!" he exclaims and he opens his arms and spreads them wide.

Mistletoe, Gilbert realizes. Oh, yes, thank you, thank you.

But then he looks at Oz's other hand and realizes that somehow, for some reason, he's holding a cat.

A cat. A cat? A _cat_? Whythehellisheholdingacat--

And his master is grinning, so Gilbert does the first thing he thinks of: he runs. I'm too drunk for this, Gilbert thinks as he dives behind a couch to avoid Oz and he's too terrified to look back. I'm too drunk to be chased around by my master and mistletoe and cats--

"Gil, stop running! You should give the cat a kiss~!"

"No!" he screams in response, and his eyes begin to water and he crawls on his hands and knees around Alice and Sharon's seats on his way to the balcony. He looks up to find Alice, drunk and red-faced, looking down at him with a smirk. "Don't just sit there!" he finds himself crying out. "Do something!"

And then Alice laughs at him, presses her foot to his back and pushes him down to the ground. "I have him!"

Oz, still on the other side of the room, turns and his face lights up when he realizes that his prey isn't moving, and comes closer with the cat and mistletoe. "Just stay still, Gil..."

He manages to scramble away just seconds before Oz drops the cat on him and half-crawls, half-runs to the balcony doors, pulls them open, and tries to find a place to hide, to shelter himself from the threat of a cat attack (the mistletoe is just a bonus), and finds nothing. Just the empty space of the balcony, the railing, and the trees around them. Nowhere to go and definitely nowhere to--

"Gil, stop running," he hears Oz say from behind him and he turns, finds his master standing in the doorway of the balcony with his instruments of torture (and in the glow of the parlor light from behind him, he thinks that Oz's expression looks much like Vincent's at his craziest moments and it makes him shudder in fear).

He shrinks back. "D-don't bring that thing any closer!" He throws his arms over his head and he's sure it's the alcohol making him squirm and yell, but he doesn't care. It's a cat Oz is holding and he really doesn't care about being tortured with anything else, except it's a _cat_ and he hates cats and--

Oz sighs. Gilbert looks up and notices that Oz is smiling.

Smiling?

Oh no.

He releases his hold on the scruff of the cat's neck; it drops to the ground on all four feet, meows, and then scampers off of the balcony and into the parlor. "You're no fun, Gil," he exclaims in resignation and crosses the balcony to sit beside Gilbert. "You were supposed to scream more."

Out of breath and with watery eyes, he doesn't know what to say, so he leans against the cool balcony railing and struggles to breathe. "I-I'm sorry," and then suddenly the tears are flowing and he looks up at Oz with a face that simply cries out for more torture. "S-sorry."

They sit in the silence with Sharon and Alice's cheering in the background and Gilbert sniffs away his tears while Oz twirls the sprig of mistletoe around his finger until a clock chimes in the distance; Gilbert doesn't know where it's coming from. "It must be Christmas Day," Oz says to him and there's a hand on his head seconds later that feels hot where Oz's fingers touch his scalp. "Merry Christmas, Gil."

"M-Merry Christmas, m-master," Gilbert manages to gulp out around a quivering lips and watery eyes and only whimpers more when Oz laughs at him and calls him useless. He wants to argue, but he doesn't; with as much as he's had to drink, he's sure that he won't remember a night of revelry in the morning, but it doesn't matter. It's Christmas with his master (tormenting him, nonetheless) and drunk or not, he's enjoying it.


End file.
